


Snow Day

by purrslink



Category: A-Team (TV), A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Frivolities, Gen, Humor, Obligatory Snow Fic, Snow Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purrslink/pseuds/purrslink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snowed in doesn't mean activity comes to a stand still, must to Face's disappointment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Day

He'd forgotten all about the mission when he looked out the window that morning.

Snow! Beautiful, white, fluffy snow!

It wasn't often that the team had a mission in the North, and even less often one during winter. But here they were, the day after roughing up and kicking out a corrupt real estate tycoon, and right outside of their window was the reason for the season according to Irving Berlin. It was something Murdock hadn't seen since, well, awhile ago (was he really that old?).

Putting a hand on the window and feeling the heat from his palm leaking out, he grinned. "Snooooooooooow!"

And with that, he threw on his clothing in a fury, not even caring that his Gumby shirt was on backwards or that his plaid over-shirt was on inside out. Throwing open the door, he did a mad hop down the hall as he jammed his socks on. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!"

He could hear Bosco move in his sleep as he passed his room, and the shout rang after him as the grinning pilot flew into the living room. "Fool, it's January! Christmas long been passed, now go back to sleep or shut your mouth and let the rest of us!"

Sleep was already out of the equation, however. How could he sleep when there was S-N-O-W? 

Snowmen, snow balls, snow forts, snow angels, snow suit, snow shoes - wait, he didn't have snow shoes - snow SNEAKERS. Where were they? Spying the Chucks by the door, Murdock flew at them like a bomber to target and the two met in an explosion of badly tied shoelaces. And then the door was open and the pilot was gone outside, a loud howl of pleasure echoing into the nearby snow-laden trees. 

Hannibal, coffee cup still unsipped at his lips, simply stood where he had been the whole time in the kitchen doorway. One more step and he would have been a victim of that lanky projectile. With a chuckle, the silver-haired man turned back into the kitchen. Maybe he'd read the paper at the table today, out of the way of the hallway where the soon-to-be awake Sergeant would be storming.

Outside, Murdock didn't even register the cold. Instead, he threw back his head and howled again. "Snow day! This is 98.9 Hoooooowling FM, otherwise known as the Murdock Channel. We're pleased to report that all schools, buildings, and roads to work have been closed today thanks to snow. So get on out there and throw some snow around and be sure you stay warm, kiddos! This is Howling Mad Murdock, and that's the way it was."

He felt like he was five, but he was crazy, so what did he care if he acted like it? He hadn’t seen snow in a long time, and hadn’t played in it for even longer. It’s not like Texas was exactly covered in the wet, white stuff.

Clicking off the microphone and removing his headset, Murdock threw himself into the nearest snow drift. "Ow..." Ok, nearest rocky snow drift. He scooted over until he found a place without jagged edges and lay down, his arms and legs working furiously. After a minute, he got up carefully, one foot over the other, using his longer stride to his advantage. Now, how did it look?

Not bad, not bad. There wasn't quite enough snow, so it looked more like a midget snow angel, but hey, God supposedly liked all creatures big and small, so there were probably a few small angels floating around. Had to have variety - like potato chips - right?

Murdock looked up from his angel, scouting for another spot, when he realized he was still the only one outside. No, this wouldn't do at all. He would he wage war against? The General had to have an opponent!

The carefully curtained window caught his eye immediately and the pilot's eyes lit up. Snow crunched as he bounded over, steams of breath trailing behind him in the cold morning air. His knuckles met the window just as he slipped, resulting in a loud THUD as his whole body slammed against the window. Oh, there was a drain pipe there. Figures he'd find the ice.

Rubbing his behind and wondering at the same time if there was a pond nearby, the window unlatched and opened with a hurry. Face fought the curtains to look out, no shirt on and sleep still evident in his hair and eyes. "Murdock?! What are you doing?"

Murdock grinned at Face. "Faceman! There's snow outside!"

Face just stared. "Please tell me that someone's hurt, there's a fire, Jackson and his boys came back, or you broke B.A.'s van, because otherwise I'm going to go back to bed and pretending that you didn't just wake me up."

Spoil sport. Even as Face was rubbing his eyes, Murdock was scooping snow into his bare hands, packing it and aiming. Tongue in his teeth in concentration, the wet mass flew just as Face looked back at the sprawled out pilot.

WHUMP!

"Murdock!" The snow ball slid down the smooth chest and landed with a wet plop on the floor. Even as Face got over the shock of cold Murdock was scrambling up, another snow ball in hand.

The pilot's eyebrows wiggled mercilessly. "We finish this today, colonist! Never shall His Majesty's kingdom give up this fair land!" And with that British accent came another snow ball, clipping the conman's ear.

"Ok, that's it!" Face leaned out to grab the manic flyboy, but he was gone, feet flying over the snow and something close to ‘Hail Britannia’ stringing along behind him in the air. Great. And now the conman had just stepped in the melting puddle.

Turning and deciding that bed wasn't going to be happening now, Face pulled on some clothing, smoothed his hair over carefully, then stomped out to give the pilot a piece of his mind. He barely even registered Hannibal looking up as he grabbed his coat and headed outside, doing up the front up with an annoyed zip.

"All right, Murdock, where are you?" Face muttered to himself, scanning the large yard with a hand over his eyes. Snow crystals sparkled, and size 13 Converse marks criss-crossed all over the yard like a rabbit on speed. 

But the pilot was not in sight.

The conman bit his lip, rethinking his charge strategy. If anything, B.A. had proved that it was never wise to assume the pilot didn't know you were coming. It had taken four washes to get all of the tomato stains out of the big man's clothes after that on incident on the farm. And even then some of Bosco's socks were still tinged the slightest shade of pink.

Deciding that he didn't want his jeans out of commission from snow for the rest of the day, Face cautiously peeked around the side of the house. Nothing. Just disturbed snow under his window. 

Huh, well, that meant-

Face turned quickly. Nothing. Confused, he turned back to his window.

There, the tracks away from his window went around the house. Very tricky. Which meant that if Face went the opposite way, he could ambush the pilot around the back of the house. Perfect. Maybe he could even help Murdock experience cold weather properly with some snow down his shirt collar.

Scooping up a promising cluster of crystals by the door and packing them in his already numbing hands, Face tread lightly towards the back. Three, two, one. "HA!" Snow ball up and armed, Face popped around, expecting a snow fort and a soon to be snow covered Murdock. 

Instead, there was nothing but a few snow covered tools and a ladder leaning against the house. Arm lowering, Face had the sneaky suspicion that he was missing something. But for the life of him he couldn't figure out what. No, wait. The ladder. Surely the pilot hadn't been stupid enough...

Face looked up.

The pilot had been waiting for the white of his eyes. "Take him now, gents, while we have the high ground!" Snow balls rained down and Face threw his arms over his head. Suddenly, his lone snow ball didn't seem quite so important or satisfactory anymore.

"Hey, hey knock it off! Come on, Murdock! It's soaking through my shirt!"

Murdock paused, ready to push another ready pile off the edge. Face had no idea when the pilot had found the time to bring up three large stacks of snow balls and build a half-finished flag pole, complete with twig, but they were there on the gutter of the house, the pilot’s feet dangling off just out of reach.

"Do you surrender, sir, and vow to forever uphold the Murdockian monarchy as the higher authority over this country?" He made an expansive gesture to the countryside around the house.

"What? Murdockian?"

"God save the homeland, sir!" And Murdock then broke into song. "God save our gracious, King, long live our noble, King! God save Billy!"

"Billy's your king?" Face raised an eyebrow, moving to grab a new handful of snow while the pilot was occupied.

Murdock snorted. What a silly thing to think! "No, of course not, chap. Billy's the beloved country mascot! Can't you see him on the flag?" He pointed to the stick/flag that was clearly fluttering by his side. "Our king is a very different fellow, noble chap with the heart of a lion, the cunning of a fox, the eyes of an eagle!"

"Uh-huh." Face carefully patted a new snow ball into being behind his back. "And exactly what is this king's name, might I ask, Tarzan?"

The pilot puffed himself up, a general taking pride in his nation. Or a bull frog. "Why, His Royal Highness Murdock the Third, of course! Descended from a long line of royalty, you see, specifically on his mother's side. His father was a bit of a scoundrel, but the man learned his lessons well, and now he leads-"

Murdock was cut off by a snow ball to the jaw. Brown eyes blinked in surprise and looked down at Face, who smirked. "That was a...good shot, sir." And with that statement, Murdock stood, a snow ball in hand. "This means war!"

Face's smirk vanished as he realized exactly what he'd instigated. Oh shit. The con man dodged the first snow ball and scooped up another. He was a bit worried about the pilot standing on a snowy and icy roof, so he hesitated before throwing. "Going to fight me like a gentleman, General?"

Blinking, Murdock looked down at Face before dropping the snow ball he had. "A gentleman's war? I didn't know the colonies still had respect for the old traditions!" And with a smart nod Murdock climbed off the roof, turning in the snow to give a mock, short salute. "To the death, sir, and honorably so, or my name isn't General Lee T. Snow!"

Face could have groaned if he hadn't been so intent on watching the crafty pilot. "Right, right. To the death and all that." Then a smile. "Loser has to make dinner."

A gleam in those brown eyes. "Sir, prepare thy apron. I call for a ten minute reprieve to assemble my team!"

Face nodded. “Fine by me.”

They scrambled, Murdock shoveling snow with his arms against the house while Face began to build up his walls around a lumber pile buried in last night’s flurry. Brown eyes and blue eyes occasionally peeked over at the other, adjusting their fortifications as needed.

Murdock grinned as he worked. He’d always been good at improvising, and his fort was testament to that. Vague memories surfaced of building snow forts once or twice when he was younger, and maybe even on one of those Eastern missions from a long time ago (but that was buried so no need to resurface it just for a memory). But the vagueness vanished as he began to build his arsenal. Scoop, pat, roll, scoop, pat, roll. How many did he have? No, wait, doesn’t matter, you can’t have too many. Full speed ahead!

Face also had to smile at himself as he ducked behind the timber and began to roll snow balls into being. He hadn’t done this in years, years! He’d always talked someone else into making the snow balls for him. He was a better shot, he’d argue. But now, doing it himself, it made it that much more frantic, and just plain fun. Plus, Murdock was asking for it.

A capped head popped up on the Northern bank. “This is your last chance, surrender now or prepare your spatula!”

The playboy laughed. “And miss out on watching you have to make enough meatballs to feed B.A.? Pass!”

Murdock saluted as a somber look crossed his face. “May you die honorably, soldier.”

And with that, chaos erupted

PIFF PIFF PIFF!

Snow balls flew and so did shouts. Face’s snow balls hit the house, hard, while Murdock’s rattled the wood pile. Guts of lost snow balls lay in no-man’s land as brave, circular soldiers rallied behind their respective causes.

Murdock may have had less cover, but he had a superior snow ball pile. “Go, soldiers, go! Die loyal to the Kingdom, fulfill your purpose in life, brethren, and may you reach Valhalla!” Gotta give your soldiers some encouragement!

Face snorted and waited until Murdock was giving a particularly battle-fearing snow ball a pep talk before launching his next attack. The shot hit Murdock in the shoulder and Face had to grin. “HA! I can taste that spaghetti already, General Snow!” He didn’t even notice he hadn’t called Murdock by his actual name.

“Taste while you can, General Schnee, but you’ll be the one who is slaving over a hot stove tonight!” And with that, Murdock launched. “For the Kingdom!”

Eventually, the inevitable happened. Both reached for a snow ball, only to discover that they were left with the single snow ball in their hand.

Out.

Silence fell over the battle field, Murdock’s flag still standing and Face’s fort standing strong. Two sets of eyes locked on one another again before both rose.

Murdock took of his hat with one numbed hand and held it to his chest, snow ball clutched in front of him. “And gentlemen in England now-a-bed shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks that fought with us upon this snow crest’d day!”

How was he supposed to follow that up? Face cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, what you said!”

Murdock jammed his hat back on, picked up his flag, and pointed at Face. “CHAAAAARGE!”

And they did.

Both had planned on smashing the last snow ball in the other’s face – a kill on impact blow. But seeing as both had the same idea, both anticipated the other to do the same. The end result was both circling each other, snow balls missing by long shots.

Face began to kick drifts at the pilot as Murdock chose to scoop up large, double handfuls and throw them at the con man’s face. Neither noticed the cold or the fact that they were laughing more than they were actually hitting their targets. 

Finally, Face changed tactics and lunged at the pilot. He was rewarded with solid contact, the Texan going down into the snow.

"For Murdonia!" the pilot cried as they hit snow. Both rolled, their feet kicking the house as they struggled to pin the other.

"I thought it was Murdockia!" Face grabbed a handful of snow and attempted to shove it down the pilot's back.

"That's just-" Murdock cut off as he squirmed away from Face, shoving armfuls of snow in the con man's direction. "The code of conduct! The highest principles that we Murdonian's live up to!"

Face stopped trying to follow. “Uh-huh.” Legs tangling with Murdock’s, eliminating the powerful kicking on both sides for a moment, Face’s hands curled around the Gumby shirt, ice ready, when they heard the front door slam open.

“All right, Murdock! I heard you up on the roof impersonatin’ reindeer or whatever you’re doin’ and I’m goin’ to pound your head! Christmas is over, crazy fool!”

The two men looked at each other and Murdock’s eyes widened. “The great beast of the mines.” His voice lowered. “Truce?”

The con man was about to say no – he wasn’t on Bosco’s shit list – when the rough voice added, “And I heard you as well, Face, eggin’ him on! You better be runnin’ too!”

“Truce,” agreed Face.

The two disentangled themselves quickly and legged it for the other side of the house. Face dived behind the wall just as Bosco emerged into the backyard. Jacket on and no gold were evidence that they had, indeed, just woken up the temperamental Sergeant. As B.A. looked around for the two, angry snorts freezing in the cold air, Murdock tapped Face’s shoulder and pointed to the front of the house.

Safety. Only about fifty feet away. Totally doable.

Face nodded and the two (or more so Murdock) tiptoeing quietly away. They were almost home free when Murdock found the other rain spout. His trip left him sprawled just enough for Face to fall on top of him.

WHAM!

“OOF!”

Groaning and rolling off Murdock’s legs, Face wondered what exactly had just happened. Murdock was similarly unsure, as he opened a single eye. “You know, Faceman, I thought you were only swept off your feet by a damsel in distress.”

Face shot the pilot a glare. “Name one time that’s happened!”

“That one girl you followed into Burger Barn.”

Damn, one point to the pilot.

“You both gonna die!” Face and Murdock froze and twisted around to find a very annoyed Bosco standing over them both. “Get over here!”

It was every man for himself at that point. Face scrambled to get away, the back of his shirt getting caught in one hand at the same time as Murdock was yanked up by his shirt collar. “All right, listen up you two. We ain’t leavin’ for a few hours yet, and I want to get some rest, ok? That means no crawlin’ around on the roof, no weird accents, no egging on said accents, and no snow balls hittin’ the house!”

B.A. looked between the two guilty parties as he laid down his demands. As both men impersonated bobble head dolls, the Mowhawked man dropped them into the snow. Face glanced over at Murdock, caught the glint in the brown eyes, and a silent exchange of agreement passed between them.

“All right, all right. We won’t hit the house with snow balls,” agreed Face.

“Good. And no crazy talk!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” replied Murdock. His brown eyes practically fluttered in an attempt at innocence underneath his eye lashes.

“And no getting up on the roof!”

Face’s features were almost angelic. “Of course not.”

B.A. was getting flustered. “And no snow balls!”

“You got it,” said Face and Murdock as one.

Glancing at the two suspiciously, B.A. nodded once more and turned to go. Two identical snow balls hit him in the back of the chest at the same time. “You two are dead!”

“For Murdonia!” crowed Murdock as he got to his feet. His smile dissolved into panic as B.A. rolled up the long sleeved shirt he was wearing. “Hostiles at six o’clock, General Schnee!” The pilot offered a hand to Face. “Retreat, retreat good man!”

Face couldn’t help but laugh as he accepted the arm up and the two ran. Neither one of them was sure what exactly B.A. would do, but seeing the look in his eyes, they didn’t want to wait to find out.

***

By the time Hannibal had reached the end of the financial section, he had just finished his coffee when the door opened for the fourth time that morning. Looking up, he contained a majority of the smile that rose.

Face, looking disheveled and thoroughly wet, was brushing snow out of his hair, leaving a wet trail behind him. The con man glanced at Hannibal, and by way of explanation, simply said, “B.A. A snow drift. Showering now.”

“Ah,” said Hannibal, giving a slow nod. He tried to give a sympathetic look, but Face was already down the hall, off to the bathroom to warm up and see if he could rescue his numb hands from being permanently frozen.

The next one in was Murdock, shirt still full of snow and hair hidden under a halo of the powdery substance. The pilot gave Hannibal a bright grin. “Hannibal, it snowed last night!”

“I see,” said Hannibal as he watched snow join the slush already on the floor. As Murdock moved to follow Face, the Colonel cleared his throat. “You know, Captain, you have a bit stuck here…” Hannibal brushed at his hair to show where.

“Ah,” said Murdock. “Thanks, Colonel.” The pilot about faced and skirted around B.A. to go shake the snow off outside.

Lighting a cigar and letting the tip burn for a moment, Hannibal turned his eyes to the last man in. B.A., also wet but looking pleased with himself, grunted. “Mornin’.”

“Nice day,” said Hannibal in kind.

B.A. shrugged. “I guess, for a snow day, it ain’t bad.”

And with that, the Sergeant left Hannibal chuckling as he went to his room to change shirts. If anyone had looked, however, they’d have seen a smile on Bosco’s face as he passed the hallway entry.

For a snow day, it wasn’t bad at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [ateam_prompts](http://ateam-prompts.livejournal.com/) meme.


End file.
